The Rose
by illuminator
Summary: About Sam and Rosie growing up! Update: Rosie's brothers are appalled at the thought of their little sister in love :)
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings does not belong to me. 

It was a stormy night. Thunder crashed on the horizon and rain pelted hard the windows of each hobbit hole. From deep within the Gamgee home, came the agonized sounds of straining and pushing, a female in labour. Lightning flashed in a sudden streak and a final cry of pain was heard. 

Outside, pacing furiously, was Gardener Gamgee. It was his first child and he was worried. Then, he perked up his head as a sudden thought occurred to him. Instantly, he picked up his feet and ran pell-mell to the window-box, hoping to save some of his wife's lovely flowers. He lifted the pane of glass and squinted into the gloomy dark, the warm light of the fireplace casting a soft, but barely adequate glow on the plants. 

He worked fast pulling all the plants out of the box, careful to keep their roots intact. Then he laid them one bye one out on the rug, ignoring the watermarks they were bound to leave. He surveyed the soggy mess sadly; the pretty blossoms had been crushed by the merciless rain. Then his eyes lighted up as he spotted one bloom, still perfect among the ruin. He had snatched it up, wary of the thorns, when the scream shrilled through the room. A moment later, it was followed by the sound of a wailing hobbit-baby. The nurse threw open the door and laughingly beckoned Gamgee into the bedroom.

"Congratulations!" She said, warmly pumping his hand. "That's a beautiful boy you've got there."

Bewildered, he entered the room. There, lying among the plump pillows, was his beloved wife. In her arms she cradled a tiny creature, bawling his lungs out. The tiny hobbit's eyes were squeezed tightly shut but his mouth was wide open, wherein issued his hearty screams. Gamgee inched timidly towards the bed, awed by this being. Suddenly, he was reminded of the flower in his hand. He hurried over to his wife and smiled delightedly at her.

"Look, I managed to save this. A rose, full-blown."

His wife lifted her head from the babe and turned to look at Gamgee. Her tired expression melted away and she tenderly stroked the deep-red petals. Plucking one, she held it over her newborn. The baby's eyes screwed open and he scrutinized the petal in wonder, his crying ceasing immediately. His small nose was tickled with it and he gurgled in pleasure. Then, reaching out with his tiny baby-hands, he struggled to grasp the petal, but to no avail. Lying back, he watched as his mother breathed in the fragrance of the blossom and saw her give his father a kiss.

"It's glorious, dear. The perfect rose."

:Rose: thought the baby. 

Then he snuggled in the crook of his mother's arm contentedly and closed his eyes to take a peaceful slumber. His parents surveyed him proudly and Gamgee wrapped his arm around his wife.

"Let's call him Samwise."

A/N: How was it? Review please! More to come.


	2. Concerning Bottomless Hobbits

A/N: Thanks to the reviewers! I love you all!

"Samwise Gamgee! You get back here this instant!" An irate Mrs. Gamgee pursued the bottomless little hobbit as he scurried down the hall, waving his pants in one hand. Giggling, the little hobbit skillfully and consistently eluded her, darting from room to room. Trapped finally in the sitting room, he kept up the chase, first ducking under a small side-table, then crawling under the large armchair, before taken captive on the hearth. He kicked furiously as his mother attempted to put the pants on and the minute she was done, was up and running again.

"Samwise…" his mother sighed and wiped her perspiring brow.

"Wanna see papa!" he shrilled and took off towards the front door, his object being the front garden, Gamgee's favourite respite. It was shut however, though not locked, and the small brass knob was beyond his reach. After a few kangaroo imitations, he gave up and kicked the door angrily. Then another plan fermented in his busy little brain. Turning to his tired mother, his face lit in an angelic smile.

"Outside, outside. Please!" he begged, using his charm to the best effect. His mother reached down and patted his chubby cheek affectionately, before relenting. Once the door was open, he shot outside, leaving his mother to watch the little critter fondly. Then she shook her head and returned to the kitchen. It was almost time for lunch. 

:And he's only three.: She thought belligerently as she started scrubbing the potatoes. 

*-

"Papa! Papa!" Little Sam enthused as he threw himself at his father and was promptly smothered in a huge bearhug. 

"There, there, my lad." Gamgee held his small son in front of him, his eyes dancing. "I'm just pulling weeds but you're welcome to help."

"Pull weeds! Pulls weeds!" Yelled little Sam and demonstrated his enthusiasm by pulling out a particularly large one.

"Well, that's an onion, actually. You see, Sam, weeds look like this…" and Gamgee embarked on the details of his lifelong passion. Sam squatted beside his father and listened, fascinated, his round eyes peering curiously at the different types of weeds. After the mini-lecture was over, Sam and his dad fell to work. They planted seeds, dug with their trowels and watched the little worms in the garden squirm in the soil. Sam, armed with his small set of gardening tools, trundled his hobbit toddler-sized wheelbarrow up and down the paths busily. 

"Lunchtime!" Mrs. Gamgee's voice rang out gaily from the kitchen window. Gamgee looked thoughtfully at his muddy shirtfront, then down at Sam.

"I've got to go change my shirt, Sam, 'else your mamma will scold. Why don't you water the flowers, then come in to eat, ok?" So saying, he ruffled Sam's hair and handed him the hose. The toddler agreed ecstatically and Gamgee headed inside. 

Sam was spraying the water this way and that, laughing delightedly as the water droplets splashed his grubby face, when a burst of scarlet caught his eye and he ran to the lovely profusion of flowers near the front gate. As he gazed at them, almost drowning the poor blossoms with the torrent of water he held over them, something stirred within his memory.

"R…ro..rose!" He managed, then stood there grinning, ridiculously pleased with himself. He stooped unceremoniously and plucked one from the bed, undeterred by the scratches left by the bramble. 

"R..rose!" He cried once more, when a small voice chimed in.

"Rose!" Sam turned at the sound of the alien tone, only to find a small hobbit-girl peeking over the hedge at him.

"Rose!" She said, then pointed at herself. She knew this flower well indeed. Often had her father taken her on his knee and told her the meaning behind her name.

Sam blinked in surprise, then proffered the rose to the little girl. 

"Here." She accepted it graciously and watched as Sam dropped the hose and disappeared into the house, suddenly shy of the stranger.

"Mmmm." Rosie blissfully burrowed her nose among its petals and skipped back home.


	3. Boys Will Be Boys

Jaid Skywalker: Sam and Rosie are a cute couple, aren't they? I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope I won't disappoint.

Darkness: Jo, Ok, I have no idea what was up with your review; are you pretending to be Sam or just being yourself? Hah! But thanks for reviewing, friend.

Aemilia Rose: Hi! I checked out your story and it's terrific! I look forward to chapters to come. Readers, go and take a look, it's really sweet!

A/N: Personally, I think my writing standard is deteriorating. If you have any constructive suggestions, they're more than welcome!

Sam scrambled up from beneath his rumpled blanket and ran eagerly to his bedroom window. The sight of the clear skies delighted him and the shafts of golden sunlight slanting onto his face enticed him to partake of the fresh new day. He wriggled in sweet anticipation as he recalled a promise his father had made the night before. 

"Papa! Let's go!" Running down the hall, he almost fell into the kitchen in his eagerness.

Laughing, he received a soothing pat on his head and a fond pinch on his cheek.

"We haven't et breakfast yet. We'll go to the park for second breakfast soon enough."

"Oh, all right." Sam pouted and plonked himself at his place. He stirred his oatmeal sulkily, then gingerly lifted a spoonful to his mouth. Slurping it hungrily, his impatience was soon forgotten in the all-absorbing activity of filling his tummy, which, in all fairness, been deprived of a night's worth of activity. After a loaf of bread or two, he gazed appealingly at Gamgee, who was contentedly partaking of his twentieth stack of pancakes. 

"Needs some more butter." He muttered and promptly smothered the cakes in the creamy yellow substance, before carefully drizzling them with a jug of maple syrup.

"Papa…" 

"Now don't rush me, like." Gamgee let out a huge belch. Mrs. Gamgee held her nose and turned from where she was packing a mind-boggling assortment of sandwiches for the picnic.

"Dear…"

"Sorry." 

*-

Rosie bounced up and down on the smooth wooden seat, hardly able to suppress her excitement. Next to her, Farmer Gamgee calmly transferred both reins to one hand with the ease of long practise and chuckled.

"Now, Rosie lass, we're just going to the market. There's no call for gettin' all twitterpatted."

"Oh, daddy, but I've never been there before. Will there be lots of hobbit-folk?"

"No more than usual. Of course, you might see Mr. Bilbo. Now he's a queer one. That fella's never been the same since he returned. Mark my words, lassie," Farmer Cotton shook his head with the air of one well-versed in such matters, "No good ever came of havin' adventures and no good ever will."

"But daddy?"

"Yes, love?"

"Why do we have to take the cart? Market ain't too far from our home, ain't it?"

"Look behind you. You think those boys are gonna walk quietly all the way? Most prob'ly they'll run off the road and climb trees whiles we two try to pull 'em down. No siree, I'm not gonna let them escape."

He glanced over his shoulder at the back of the cart, where a hearty wrestling match was in full swing. The boys swarmed over each other, experimenting with a variety of different holds, kicks, pummels and moves which would have made any referee go green in the face.

"Tom, Jolly, Nick, Nibs! You sit down like and behave yourself." The boys untangled themselves from the confused mess of limbs and instantly were pictures of abject submission.

"Good." Cotton sighed and focused his attention back onto the road. Once he had turned, however, a wondrous commotion ensued.

They soon approached the market and Cotton swung down, holding out his arms for his little daughter. Then he turned and gave the boys the evil eye as they trooped down laughingly, oblivious to their fuming father.

"Daddy," Little Rosie cried disappointedly. "There's nobody here."

"Well, I'll be." Just then, a roll of thunder assaulted their steps. "I guess it looks like rain. I didn't take much notice of what the sky wuss like." As it was, memorising his wife's shopping list had more than stretched the limits of his mental capacity. Failing to note a trivial point such as the weather condition was entirely understandable for the harrassed hobbit. 

"We'd best take shelter under that there shop front." So saying, he led his merry little brood to under the grocer's front window canopy.

*-

Sam groaned dismally as he watched the clouds, so white and plump moments before, fade into a hazy darkness. He cast an exasperated glance at his father, who was downing yet another cup of coffee. Gamgee caught his eye and winked.

"Don't worry, Sam, it'll clear up soon enough." In a state of complacent bliss, Gamgee staggered to his feet, puffing slightly due to effort.

"That was a beautiful breakfast, dear." He added, placing a voluble smack on Mrs. Gamgee's cheek before linking arms with her. "And now it's time for second breakfast. Trot out the hamper, dearie and let's go!"

"But won't it rain?" whined Sam.

"Nah!" Scoffed Gamgee. "I've had a many years gardening and I've learned to read the signs right. You're still a little miter, lad, not yet five."

:But my birthday's coming soon: thought Sam, cheering up at the reminder. "If you're sure, Papa." He stole another nervous glance at the gloomy mass hovering above.

"Your Papa is sure to be right, laddie. Why, I remember the time when we were courting. I was sure it was going to be sunshine all day but your papa.." Mrs. Gamgee launched into a well-cherished reminiscence and took Sam's hand. Then, all three headed for the 'park', a smooth bit of grass with a weathered oak tree in its midst, sheltering all who deigned to have a bit of a frolic under its spreading branches. Sam skipped along, hoping to make friends with some nice hobbit children he had seen there playing a week ago.

*-

"Papa," Little Sam cried disappointedly, "There's nobody here." Gamgee scratched his head in puzzlement. Just then, lightning flashed in the sky and fat raindrops came pelting down, drenching the family of hobbits.

"Well, I'll be." Was all Gamgee could say as his walking stick blew away. Mrs. Gamgee convulsed in a fit of laugher, holding her aching sides as tears poured down her cheeks.

"Well, Hamfast. Looks like you were wrong for once." She gasped, as she straightened up. Then she swept Sam up in her arms and started running towards the Grocer's.

"We'd best take shelter under that there shop front." She called to Gamgee. "Come on!" 

Jolted from his stunned reverie, he quickly came to his senses and hurriedly joined his wife in her frantic sprint towards shelter.


	4. Meeting Under the Rain

Aemilia Rose: Thanks for all your wonderful comments! I'd love to be your friend! : ) And congrats on completing your fic; it was a lovely ending.

Jaid Skywalker: A balance? Wow, thank you, I'm glad of that!

Miss B: Heh heh, Sam does have a cute side. We certainly don't see him streaking about (unless he's running from orcs) in LOTR, more's the pity.

Galorin: Thanks! Your comments on my writing were very encouraging. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Farmer Cotton looked disconsolately at the 'closed' sign hung upon the front window shutters. 

"Guess the grocer ain't here, kids. We'll have to stay here till the rain stops." He seated himself comfortably in a corner and reached into his pouch to pull out his pipe. Rosie snuggled into his lap and giggled as the tendrils of smoke curled about her. The boys ran about best they could in so limited an area, making a general ruckus. Suddenly, all four froze as a hobbit lady ran in, in her arms a small hobbit boy. Close behind her came another, splashing in the puddles as he ran and looking back now and then in regret at a stick spiralling away in the distance.

"Mrs. Gamgee." Farmer Cotton nodded at her peacefully from his cosy nook, as if sitting in front of the grocers on a rainy day with four irrepressible boys darting about in front of him was an everyday occurrence.

"Farmer Cotton. What a pleasant surprise!" replied Mrs. Gamgee in turn, the two displaying the famously unflappable manner of hobbits. The only difference between the scene and one of a friendly neighborhood visit was the puffing Gardener Gamgee, who drew level with his wife and flopped, exhausted, on the parapet. Mrs. Gamgee frowned and glanced apologetically at Cotton.

Little Sam wiggled impatiently, eager to release himself from the embarrassing confines of his mother's arms. He was, after all, soon to be five years old. Besides, there were other hobbit children about; it would never do for them to see him being carried. His self-respect was at stake! "Mama, let me down!" he cried as a final resort, taking care that his plea maintained a certain degree of dignity.

As he was steadily lowered, the other boys started taking notice of him and circled about with the air of young vultures eyeing their prey. Immune to their voraciousness, Sam inspected them with rivaling intensity. Nibs seemed to be around his age, while his brothers were slightly older. He held his own against the boys, staking his ground with boyish pride. Then Tom, the oldest of the troop, stepped forward solemnly. He strode over to Sam, who cowered slightly at the advances of this tall figure. Tom stretched out a hand and tapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Tag, you're it!" He shouted and fled gleefully, leaving a dumbfounded Sam staring after him. The other boys took their cue and started cavorting about, shrieking wildly. Dimly aware that he had been somewhat formally initiated, Sam took a deep breath. :I can do this: Then he resolutely gave chase.

Rosie watched as watched as Sam yelled and screamed with her brothers. His arms flailing about, he careened from one end of the shopfront to the other, his merriment contagious. The other boys would bait him by lingering deliberately, before slipping away as he caught up to them. His face looked familiar, yet she could not place when and how she came to meet him. Absorbed in her thoughts, she unconsciously lifted her thumb to her mouth and began sucking, reverting to a habit broken only two months ago. 

"Rosie, stop that at once!" Farmer Cotton slapped the offending digit. Rosie hastily retracted her thumb, ashamed to be caught indulging in such childishness. Farmer Cotton sighed and looked up at the Gamgees. 

"She's been doing it ever since she was a baby. Me and the missus have tried to stop her, but these children are curious creatures and there's no accountin' for what they'll do." Mrs. Gamgee smiled sympathetically.

"My Sam here's the same. And it's no help that Hamfast here told him that soil is the delicious richness of the earth, the lad's always trying to taste his muddy fingers." She glared at her offending partner, who happened to be staring conveniently in the opposite direction.

"It was not meant to be taken literally, like." Hamfast muttered under his breath when his wife had resumed her chatter.

"Sam's still sucking his thumb, in fact!" announced Mrs. Gamgee enthusiastically, warming to the subject. She reached out and grabbed the boy, who had overheard the unfortunate truth and was in the process of sidling past inconspicuously. 

"Isn't that right, Sam?" She chirped, oblivious to her son's desperate attempts to regain his freedom. Realising that all hopes were futile, Sam stopped kicking and took stock of the situation. The other boys thankfully showed no interest in the conversation or the consequent abduction of their playmate. As for his mother….Sam listened gloomily as certain skeletons came tumbling pell-mell out of his closet, courtesy of his dear mum. He looked at the deeply interested face of Farmer Cotton and winced inwardly. This subject would be discussed for some time.

His gaze shifted to the hobbit-child on Cotton's lap. She seemed to be seething with the same air of frustration he felt himself. Interesting. Sam tuned in wholly to the exchange of words between the two adults, attention caught by the numerous anecdotes Farmer Cotton regaled his mother with. Most of them seemed largely humiliating to the girl and Sam couldn't resist a smirk as he cast another glance at her. Seated primly with dress in order and ringlets neatly parted, she looked the picture of perfection. It was nice to know she had faults too. 

"Then my Rosie gal here…" Farmer Cotton was off yet again. Sam's ears perked at the mention of the name. :Rosie? Short for rose?: He thought. :That's a pretty flower.: Its thorns were something awful, though. He looked sourly at his forefinger, in which one especially large and painful thorn had once been embedded. He scrutinized Rosie closely. 

Rosie felt the strange boy's gaze on her. Again. Curiosity piqued, she lifted her head to meet his eyes and sent an innocent, wondering smile his way.

Sam was bowled over by the impact of the smile, taken aback by the genuine warmth that shone through. Even in the dark of the storm, he was captivated by the way her face lighted up, enchanted by the twinkle in her eye. He smiled back, tentatively. :She seems nice: he mused. :Maybe we can be friends.: Then he looked distastefully at her pink dress. :She looks…girly, though. Ewww: 

Distracted by his thoughts, a crash of thunder produced a startled squeal from Sam. He looked around, embarrassed. It didn't seem as if anyone had noticed. Then he heard a muffled giggle and swung around in time to catch Rosie clamp her hand over her mouth, eyes dancing with mirth. :Oh no.: He averted his gaze from hers.


	5. Birthday Party

A/N: Yep, I'm aware it's been a long time, sorry! There have been tests and stuff. But now I'll try focusing on completing this fic, so hopefully you'll see new chapters up soon.  
  
"The sun has come out, dad!" Jolly shouted in glee. Farmer Cotton looked up, reluctantly tearing himself from the all-absorbing subject of potty- training, and shielded his eyes.  
  
"Why, that it has." He smiled at the Gamgees. "I guess we'd best be getting a move on." All three rose to their feet, brushing themselves off. Mrs. Gamgee patted Sam on the head.  
  
"Come now, say goodbye."  
  
"Bye!" Sam waved obligingly at the boys, now clustered around their father, as a chorus of farewells answered him. Rosie peeked out from behind Farmer Cotton and watched as the Gamgees turned to leave. As they stepped out from beneath the shop front, she eagerly gave a cry.  
  
"Bye Sam!" The hobbit boy turned in surprise. Seeing the rosy face beaming out at him, he waved, slightly hesitant.  
  
"Bye!"  
  
* * *  
  
Sam inhaled deeply, savouring the delicious fragrance wafting on the air. Leaning his elbows on the kitchen table and dangling his legs from his tall chair, his eyes noted her movements in careful detail. He watched as she hurried to the oven, squirmed in ecstasy as she removed the crusty brown cake from within and sighed involuntarily as she carefully poured the melted chocolate in tempting layers over her creation. Wiping her hands on her apron, Mrs. Gamgee winked at Sam.  
  
"How does it look?" Her son gazed longingly at the richness before him.  
  
"Looks yummy." he breathed. Mrs. Gamgee surveyed her handiwork in satisfaction.  
  
"Ain't too bad. Will do for the Cottons, I'm sure, and sure will do for us!"  
  
"Are the Cottons coming?" Sam asked, delighted.  
  
"Sure they are. Just those boys alone are more an' a handful." Thoughts of her neat sitting room came flitting to mind, creasing her brow. She motioned towards the door.  
  
"Run along now, Sam, the guests will be here soon. Smarten yourself up and change into a new pair of clothes, that's a dear."  
  
Sam pliantly hopped off his chair as Mrs. Gamgee hurried to put a certain precious heirloom in the sitting room high up out of reach.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ding-dong!" rang the doorbell. A pause, then, "Ding-dong ding-dong ding- dong!"  
  
"Tom, stop that!"  
  
"Aww, mom." Mrs. Gamgee rushed to the door, calming herself mentally. :You can do this, you can do this: She threw open the door, a bright smile on her face.  
  
"Come in, come in, everyone!" She chirped, ushering the guests in.  
  
"Farmer and Mrs. Cotton! Could I get you anything? Perhaps a cup of tea?" The children were about to follow the adults into the sitting room, when a loud yell arrested them in their steps. Sam ran into the hallway, his hair neatly combed and his clothes crisply pressed. The boys stared wonderingly at him for a moment, before Nibs poked him curiously.  
  
"You look so.clean. You feeling ok?" Sam nodded earnestly.  
  
"Yup, I got ready specially!" A shadow of doubt crossed his scrubbed face. "Don't I look all right?" The boys viewed him speculatively.  
  
"You sure you feeling ok?" Nibs repeated. Just then, a small figure wormed her way through the barricade of boys. She planted her feet firmly in front of Nibs and placed her hands on her hips.  
  
"I think he looks just fine! You should be ashamed of yourself, Nibs Cotton. Trying to put people down just 'cause you refused to take a bathe." Rosie turned to Sam.  
  
"Don't mind him." She leaned in confidentially. "He's been naughty." Thus enlightened, Sam nodded dumbly, taken aback by the sudden appearance and pertinent boldness of the girl.  
  
"Anyway, happy birthday Sam!" She looked pointedly at Tom, who fearfully hurried forward.  
  
"Oh, right! Here you go, Sam." He handed over a parcel wrapped in paper, then trotted obediently back to his place. At another low cough from their sister, the boys chimed on cue,  
  
"Hope you like it!"  
  
"Yes, it's from all of us." Rosie smiled. Then, "Are we playing games?"  
  
Sam glanced from the docile boys to the waiting Rosie.  
  
"We'll play outside...?" he asked, more than stated.  
  
"That would be great! C'mon!" Rosie dragged Sam out by the arm. At the crook of her finger, her brothers shuffled along behind.  
  
"Rosie?" Sam threw a questioning glance over his shoulder. The little hobbit-girl smiled malevolently.  
  
"Oh, they did something bad and they don't want me to tell."  
  
"Bad?"  
  
Rosie hummed cheerily, before uttering three dreaded words.  
  
"Peed in bed." Sam swallowed inaudibly.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really." Her round blue eyes bore into his. Sam shook his head in stunned disbelief.  
  
"Wow." He stole a peek at the four older boys, then stared at the hobbit- girl skipping happily beside him.  
  
:Wow:  
  
* * *  
  
"One, two three," Rosie twirled a ringlet around her finger thoughtfully, focusing intently upon the orange candles. "Six!"  
  
"Five." Ventured Jolly timidly, as he looked hungrily at the twirls of sugary frosting.  
  
"Five!" Rosie nodded at Sam affably.  
  
"You're as big as me! Or, least I'll be big as you in." she slowly stuck one finger up, then another.  
  
"Three months!"  
  
"Two." Corrected Jolly.  
  
"Two." Rosie prodded Sam.  
  
"Aren't you going to blow out the candles?"  
  
"I'll help you!" volunteered Jolly, before being silenced by a death glare from his little sister.  
  
"There's an awful lot of candles." Sam watched the flickering flames, rather overwhelmed.  
  
"Sam, boy, there's no need to be afraid," encouraged the Gaffer.  
  
"Daddy." Sam broke off as a soft hand gripped his arm and he turned to look into a pair of understanding eyes.  
  
"You can do it, Sam. Just try." Rosie spoke gently, coaxing him along." I was scared too, but last year I blew out my candles all by myself."  
  
"Ok." Sam leaned forward, resolved. Rosie tightened her hold on his arm. Then, in one brave rush of air, he conquered.  
  
"You did it!"  
  
"Yay! Hooray!" The room erupted into noisome cheers. Rosie released her hand and shared a high-five with the triumphant Sam. As his mother began dividing the moist chocolate slabs, Sam smiled at Rosie.  
  
"Will you be my good friend?" Rosie folded her arms, mulling over his words.  
  
"Good friend? Like a best friend?"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
Rosie nodded happily and hooked pinkies with Sam  
  
"Ok, best friends!" (The other boys were, at the time of this pivotal exchange, eating their cake in blissful ignorance.)  
  
"Sam, why don't you open your present?" broke in the Gaffer, bearing forth the parcel.  
  
"Yaop een mur pwebent!" Nick mumbled through a mouth of cake. Sam methodically unwrapped the gift, revealing a paper kite covered with designs liberally and vividly painted.  
  
"That's a house." Rosie pointed to a splotch of red paint. Sam gave the kite a quick once-over.  
  
"It's beauuutiful." He tucked it under one arm fondly. Tom, very much gratified by his response seeing as how he directed the kite's creation, asked,  
  
"Want to come kite-flying with us tomorrow? We'll show you how to play with it and it's good fun!" Sam looked at his mother, who smiled in confirmation.  
  
"Yep, ok!" 


	6. Best Friends

Aemilia Rose: Yes, cuteness abounds! There's just no escaping when it comes to hobbits :)  
  
5 Years Later  
  
The wind blew softly, cradling the kite in its steady gusts. The blue tail ribbons trailed gaily as the kite swooped in a smooth arc. The flaxen string pulled taunt as Sam carefully handled the kite from below. Beside him, Rosie giggled.  
  
"What is it?" Sam looked over at his best friend.  
  
"I was just remembering the first time we went kite-flying. You were so funny!" Rosie laughed, watching the kite tug upwards. A faint blush dulled Sam's cheeks and he turned back to his sport.  
  
"You just had to bring that up."  
  
"Oh, yes." Rosie folded her arms. "Let me see, the kite got snagged in a tree, yes, yes. Hmm, then Nibs told you to climb up and get it but you." She burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.  
  
"You cried! Because you were scared!" She shrieked wildly. "And then."  
  
"You got it for me." Sam groaned dismally. "Do you have to rub it in?" Rosie punched him lightly on the shoulder.  
  
"Of course. You've grown so tall, strong and handsome." She batted her eyelids at him appealingly. "That there's nothing to tease you about anymore." Sam grumbled under his breath, reeling the kite in.  
  
"Come and eat your tea!" Rosie sang sweetly, settling herself on the picnic mat. She patted the empty spot next to her invitingly and peeked inquisitively into the basket.  
  
"What did your mamma prepare today? It smells heavenly!" Sam seated himself on the indicated spot, still miffed from her previous jibes. He reached in and took out a sandwich, waving it delicately under her nose.  
  
"It's a chocolate and banana sandwich; don't you wish you could have one?" He drew the basket towards him.  
  
"Looks like there's plenty here for me. 'Course I can't let the pork pie, ham, pound cake and apples go to waste, either." He drew a fruit out and rubbed it against his sleeve.  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"Oh, Sam." Rosie trilled.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Isn't that tulip beautiful?" Sam's instincts went on full alert.  
  
"Tulip? Where? Surely it's too early for tulips!" He looked around excitedly.  
  
"Got it!" Rosie snatched the basket.  
  
"Give that back!"  
  
After a brief tussle, Sam made off with an armload of sandwiches and the porkpie, while Rosie crowed over the ham, apples and pound cake. As they polished off the final bites, Nick came pounding across the field.  
  
"Sam! Rosie! The boys are going down to the river, want to come?"  
  
* * *  
  
Sam waded into the river, feet squelching in the muddy bottom. He retaliated as Jolly and Nibs splashed about, engaging in the water battle that was their common past time. On the bank, Rosie stood watching, hopping impatiently from one foot to the other.  
  
"It's not fair!" she complained loudly. "Just because I have a new dress on!" Tom stuck out his tongue at her.  
  
"Nyaah! Nyaah!"  
  
Rosie pouted sulkily. Stooping, she picked up a smooth pebble and hurled it some distance from her brother. The other boys laughed as Tom was engulfed in the tiny tidal wave that emerged. Sam shook his head fondly. After five years of shared fun, he knew well enough how forceful his friend could be, and how wilful.  
  
From her closely cropped curls to her sun-browned skin, Rosie was clearly of same make as her brothers. Not exactly a tomboy, yet tougher and more self-possessed than any other girl he knew. Yet when it mattered, she knew what to say and how to say it, never failing to press the right chords in his heart. Countless times had she comforted him, affirmed him, pulled him back up when he lacked the strength. The best friend he could ever have.  
  
"Sam, you all right?" Rosie's worried voice pierced his quiet thoughts. He grinned up at her.  
  
"Well, do I look all right?" So saying, he grabbed by the arm and with one hefty tug, he had her sprawling in the water.  
  
"Sam! My dress! Ruuuined!" Indignant screams filled the air. Sam plugged up his ears nonchalantly.  
  
"SAAAM! You're gonna pay!" He ducked, just in time.  
  
:I'm just glad we're friends!: 


	7. Baited

"Sam. Sam. Get up!" Urgent whispers in the lightening shadows.  
  
"Hmm?" He rolled over in his bed, eyelids flickering open for a second.  
  
"It's time to go!" Hands shaking him, prodding him to awareness. Sam rolled over, face burrowing blissfully back into the fluffy feather pillow.  
  
A pause, then.  
  
"OUCH!" Sam bolted up in bed, rubbing his arm indignantly. He quickly lowered his voice. "What was that for?"  
  
"You know well what that was for! Get up!" Rosie kicked the foot of his bed angrily. "Weren't you supposed to meet me at the front gate?" She tossed her head.  
  
"Anyway, a little pinch ain't nothing."  
  
"How did you get in?"  
  
"Same way I always do." Sam's gaze fell on the open window.  
  
"No, you didn't."  
  
"Yes I did."  
  
"At this time of the night?"  
  
"It's morning already, so hurry up!"  
  
"All right, all right."  
  
Minutes later, the two hobbit-children were stealing their way down the front path. They purposed to move stealthily, to creep along silently, like cats on a midnight prowl. Accomplishing their object, however, was a separate matter.  
  
"Be quiet will you!"  
  
"You're the one making the noise."  
  
"You take up so much of the path!"  
  
"Then walk ahead of me."  
  
So it was, with much elbowing and bickering, that the two made their way safely down and through the gate. Sam took stock of the items lying against the wooden gate post.  
  
"Did you bring everything?"  
  
"Yes. Don't you trust me?" Sam glanced sideways at Rosie. Arms crossed, she stood bathed in the fading moonlight. Staring off petulantly into the distance, she refused to turn to meet his eyes.  
  
"Are you still angry?"  
  
"Angry? Why should I be?" Sam shrugged wryly. Turning his back on her, he hoisted the fishing rods and can of worms.  
  
"Just a guess." He waited, counting under his breath. :One, two, three, four.:  
  
"I am upset."  
  
:Five:  
  
Sam reached over and patted her shoulder sympathetically.  
  
"Was it something I did?" He steadied himself mentally, knowing well what would come next.  
  
"Why do I always have to be the one? To creep in your window like a thief, to rouse you from your sleep? Why, Sam? Can't you be a bit responsible?"  
  
Sam, unfazed by her tirade, caught the unmistakable hitch in her voice. :Ahah:  
  
"There's something more, isn't there, Rosie?"  
  
"Oh Sam!" A tear trickled down her cheek, instantaneously removed by a brush of Sam's finger.  
  
"Nothing seemed to go right yesterday."  
  
"Now, now, lass. Tell me all about it."  
  
"First, I broke mother's favourite vase. She treasured it ever so much! The look in her eyes when she saw.oh, I couldn't bear it! It was an accident, Sam, honest."  
  
"I believe you."  
  
"Then that confounded Nick tore my blue pinafore, you know, the one with the white trimming? He ripped it and.and."  
  
"Just let it all out."  
  
"Used the strips to blow his nose! Oh my pretty pinafore!" Rosie looked up at him through streaming eyes. Wordlessly, Sam handed a folded handkerchief to her.  
  
"Thank you. Then, my dahlias got destroyed in yesterday's gale! Oh, Sam, it was such a terrible day!"  
  
Sam covered one of her hands with his, guiding her in dabbing away the tears bedewing her cheeks. Then he pulled her close, comforting her within the circle of his arms, stroking her hair. Holding her away, from him, he smiled reassuringly.  
  
"We all have bad days, Rosie. But it's when we learn to stand and fight after they're over, that we become stronger. Then those little problems don't trouble us so, don't you see?" He brushed an unruly curl from her face.  
  
"Now smile for me, go on."  
  
She dimpled.  
  
"Thank you, Sam."  
  
Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had always found these outbursts trying. He watched as she tried to wrest the can of worms from his grasp.  
  
:But I know her. I know her well.:  
  
With a quick flick of his wrist, he shook her hand free.  
  
"I can manage this. It's only fair after the trouble you had waking me up."  
  
Oblivious to her protests, he strode on.  
  
"Now are we going to catch some fish before sun-up, or are we not?"  
  
"Wait for me!"  
  
* * *  
  
The two sat side by side at the river. Swinging their legs freely in the air, their toes skimmed the surface. A sudden yell from Sam disrupted the peaceful morning silence as an unsuspecting frog gave a startled croak and hopped away.  
  
"A bite, a bite!"  
  
Rosie immediately abandoned her own rod, helping Sam to reel in his catch. Moments later, they stared at the large trout flopping about on the ground. Rosie whistled.  
  
"That's a beauty, Sam!"  
  
"It is, isn't it!"  
  
"Would look good fried and on a platter."  
  
"It would."  
  
After packing the fish into a large basket brought expressly for the occasion, Sam sat down to rebait his hook. He inspected the squirming worm before him delicately.  
  
"Don't you feel sorry for them, Rosie?"  
  
"Feel sorry for who, Sam?"  
  
"Oh, the worms and the fish. It can't be nice to be plucked from your home like that, no siree," he shook his head vehemently. "Set down in a foreign place where you'd most likely die."  
  
Rosie digested his words. Trust Sam to find creatures to sympathize with on a fishing trip.  
  
"I think." she began, slowly, "that maybe they don't have a choice. Take the fish, for example. Now, them fish probably know by now that there are some worms up there that could be a big risk. Probably even seen other fish succumb to the trap."  
  
"Then why do they keep biting?"  
  
"That's the idea. They have to eat to survive so no matter how great the danger, they're going to have to go up there and look for worms." She bit her lower lip thoughtfully as Sam interjected.  
  
"They really want to survive, don't they?"  
  
"Perhaps," she answered, slightly embarrassed, "It doesn't really matter to them whether they survive. But they may have loved ones, fish they want to see again. Fish who do care whether they live or not. Maybe these fish are the reasons why they keep swimming back to danger."  
  
She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable ridicule of her theory. To her surprise, Sam merely gazed out upon the water. When he spoke, his words were not those of scorn.  
  
"I never thought of it that way." Sam looked over at her, eyes softened.  
  
"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" he ended.  
  
"It certainly does." 


	8. First Hints

Aemilia Rose: Thanks for your reviews! They are really very encouraging. Sam and Rosie are already close as friends; that's a lovely component of their relationship!  
  
Rosa Cotton: Thanks for reviewing! I hope you enjoy all the cuteness!  
  
Everybody else: Please, please review!  
  
A/N: All right, I know this fic is declining in terms of storyline and linguistic detail. Please give suggestions on how to improve! Thanks!  
  
5 Years Later  
  
Rosie stretched as she straightened from the bed of begonias. Looking down the path, she saw Sam fast approaching the front gate. The sight of the bright smile on his face made her wonder and she cocked an eyebrow as he jogged up to her.  
  
"What happened? What did you do now?"  
  
Sam assumed an injured air.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I can see it on your face." She tapped her foot on the ground. "Come now, out with it."  
  
Sam looked down at his feet, cheeks flushed with pleasure.  
  
"The Gaffer said I could go and work in Mr. Baggins' garden with him! I knew enough, he said, to be of use."  
  
Rosie laughed delightedly, knowing how much Mr. Bilbo and Frodo meant to Sam. Often had she been told of the wondrous tales Mr. Bilbo told him, of the elves and of the curious far-off places.  
  
"That's wonderful, Sam! This calls for a celebration." Taking his hand, she led him into the cottage.  
  
* * *  
  
Sam started as her fingers touched his. Silently, he followed, as she pulled him into the kitchen, merrily describing the cookies she had baked that morning. :What was that about?: he wondered. :Nothing: He dismissed the thought, sure that the tingles that had ran deliciously over his spine at her touch were nothing more than a figment of his imagination.  
  
:Must have slept too late last night: He watched her as she gingerly balanced the tray of chocolate chip cookies over to where he sat at the kitchen table. Pulling out a chair, she watched as he sampled one. Sam chewed deliberately, testing the flavour and texture of the cookie. At last, he nodded approvingly.  
  
"Delicious."  
  
"I rather think I've out done myself this time, don't you?" Rosie asked as she handed another cookie to Sam. He shook his head exasperatedly.  
  
"Modesty is a virtue. And it's one which you sadly lack." He patted her head fondly.  
  
Rosie looked up at Sam, eyes twinkling mischievously. Laughing, she reached up a finger and brushed a crumb from the corner of his lips.  
  
In a sudden reflex, Sam took her finger before she could withdraw, holding it captive as he gazed steadily at her.  
  
:I know this face so well. These eyes, this nose,: He reached out his other hand, finger trembling as it outlined the pert feature,  
  
:this mouth: His finger continued downwards, tracing her lips wonderingly. To his surprise, a slow blush crept up Rosie's cheeks as she turned away slightly. This rare shyness only endeared her to him and he caught his breath as he tucked her ringlets behind one ear. Out of the corner of her eye, Rosie glanced at him tenderly.  
  
:You seem surprised by my reaction. Surprised by my diffidence. But then, so was I when I first realised how much you meant to me. Surprised at how deeply I had misinterpreted my feelings for you.:  
  
She spoke, her voice dissipating a crystallized dream.  
  
"Sam," she whispered.  
  
He started, suddenly aware of his motions. Quickly, he dropped her hand, backing away hurriedly.  
  
"Sorry, sorry.." he stammered.  
  
"Sam, it's all right. I."  
  
"No, I've got to go." He stumbled for the front door. Attempting an awkward wave, he left, bolting down the garden path. Rosie watched him leave resignedly.  
  
:My love has already budded. Will it be given a chance to bloom?: 


	9. Whatever Will Be, Will Be

Aemilia Rose: Ha ha, yes, they are! I'm glad you're so excited.  
  
Lily Among the Thorns-89: Thank you very much! Please continue to read and review! (Yes, I'm shameless)  
  
Rosa Cotton: Thanks! Sam is a shy fellow, so it is interesting to write about his feelings; he so rarely expresses them.  
  
Sam focused his attention on the crystal shower of droplets bedewing the flowers. Smiling, he ran his fingers through the spray, teasing and sprinkling the flow. His eyes trailed their progress as they fell, one by one, onto the velour surface of the petals. His view broadened to take in the surrounding flowers, his mind recounting each of their names in satisfied familiarity. Daisy, dahlia, honeysuckle.he frowned in sudden perplexity as he reached the final one.  
  
"Rose," He softly intoned, emotions flooding through him. His favourite flower. Rosie was named fittingly so, he mused, subconsciously comparing the beauty of the two. He wondered over his reaction the afternoon before. Alien sensations, abruptly tearing the door open to innumerable, unwanted questions. That such feelings should invade the comfortable, easy camaraderie between them was startling and Sam berated himself silently as he recalled his behaviour towards Rosie. Whatever had moved him to act in such a way? What would Rosie think of him now? Worries commenced to torment him, all left hopelessly unresolved. He sighed, tilting the small watering can as the last few droplets left its security. Why did yesterday ever have to happen?  
  
Frodo watched from the front window as Sam leaned on his spade, his gaze lingering on the distant horizon. His thoughts evidently distracted, he heaved yet another melodramatic sigh, unaware of the amusement he was causing his silent observer. He cast a glance at the rose he held in his hand, absently plucking its petals.  
  
"Is anything the matter?" A voice pierced his gloomy study. Sam jolted upright, turning to meet the twinkling eyes of Mr. Frodo. He, in turn, indicated the pathetically droopy rose in Sam's hand, his motion a silent query. Flurried, Sam dropped the flower, before returning to his digging with furious vigour, all the more energetic due to his overwhelming embarrassment.  
  
"I don't mind you taking my flowers, Sam," remarked Frodo, seating himself on the doorstep. "But looking at how you treated that poor thing, I can't help but feel sorry for it."  
  
"S.sorry, Mr. Frodo."  
  
"Don't worry yourself, it's of no consequence, really. But tell me, whatever has been bothering you?"  
  
"Bothering me, Mr. Frodo?" The dirt flew in wild disarray as Sam dug all the more viciously.  
  
"You're a fine gardener, Sam. But as excellent as you perform, there is more to life than working. I can tell there's something troubling you. Come, tell me about it."  
  
Sam stopped at the genuine concern in Frodo's tone.  
  
"I.I won't be botherin' you, Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"Of course not!" Frodo exclaimed scornfully. "Now tell, the old, wise hobbit what the matter is."  
  
Laying his spade at one side, Sam proceeded to relate his tale woefully. Frodo found himself retreating hastily from the brink of laughter more than once, the bashful nature of the younger hobbit sometimes too much for him to bear. Overall, however, he understood, even to the point of sympathizing. Young love, he knew, was a rude shock when thrust upon one wholly new to the experience. The strong friendship between Sam and Rose was renowned among the hobbit villagers of the Shire, Frodo, himself, having indulgently observed the two grow up together. How confusing it must be, indeed, to find yourself in love with your best friend! He found it altogether a fascinating predicament.  
  
"Well, I see no need for worry here. What you've encountered, Sam, is puppy love."  
  
"Puppy love?"  
  
"Yes. In other words, Sam, you've developed a strong liking for young Rosie." At his words, Sam blushed in protest. Frodo nodded knowingly.  
  
"It's no use trying to deny it. But," Frodo waggled his finger warningly, "The two of you are still young, just past fifteen. Whether or not this liking matures into something more, only time can tell."  
  
"Wha..at should I do now?"  
  
"Well." Frodo rubbed his chin thoughtfully, reveling in his glorified role of love guru.  
  
"In my opinion, you should continue as before. Remember, the friendship the two of you share is too precious to be sacrificed for something as doubtful as puppy love. Watch her and ponder your situation with a clear and unbiased mind. This affection may die down after some time, or it may not."  
  
Sam slowly digested his words. Turning them over in his mind and reasoning all avenues of choice, he saw the practicality of Frodo's advice.  
  
"I'll try to do it."  
  
"Good lad."  
  
* * *  
  
Rosie impatiently threaded her needle, the elusive thread having slipped once more out of its eye, infuriating in its minute size. Thus accomplished, she jabbed the slender silver instrument through her cloth, cursing silently as it bit cruelly into the hand steadying the framework from beneath.  
  
"Use a thimble, dear."  
  
"Yes, mother." Came the submissive answer, entirely contradictory to its speaker's inward raging. Rosie squinted down at her cloth, struggling to pinpoint where she should sew the next cross. The small yellow butterflies, usually a joy and pleasure to sew, now angered her as she stormed at their uselessness. Frustrated by her feminine occupation, she would have thrown her work wholly aside, had the watchful eyes of her mother not restrained her. Rocking calmly, Mrs. Cotton tethered her own needle with practiced rhythm as she mended a pair of torn trousers. She had long before noticed Rosie's irritation with her work, now she merely waited for the eventual explosion. It would come soon enough, she knew, none better understanding the inconsistencies of a young female mind.  
  
"Mother, why do I have to do this? Why did you stop me from going to the farm with Father and the boys?"  
  
"Don't you like to sew, dear?" Came the meek reply.  
  
"Yes, but.you knew I wanted to go." Rosie picked at a loose thread dangling unobtrusively from the cross-stitch.  
  
Setting aside her mending, Mrs. Cotton turned to the young girl fidgeting beside her.  
  
"There is a reason, dear. I heard you crying last night." Rosie started at the words. Mrs. Cotton gently took away the cross-stitch from her quivering hands.  
  
"Now is the time, dearest, that a young girl's heart aches the most, and aches terribly. Won't you share your worries with me?" Mrs. Cotton's tone was almost wistful, touching her daughter in its yearning to seek the girl's trust.  
  
"Oh, mother," Rosie buried her head upon the familiar shoulder, a tear trickling down her cheek. "I will."  
  
Sobbing out the happenings of the past day, that hour was one that brought the girl and her mother closer than ever before. As Rosie told all of her worries and burdens, her mother comforted and soothed, holding her close as she guided her daughter through that precious stage in every hobbit girl's life. Though surprised by Rosie's confessions, she soon came to realize that it was natural to expect such a revelation. Momentary pangs of reluctance overtook her, loathe as she was to see her only daughter taking the first preparations for flight from the home nest. Yet as she listened to the earnest innocence in Rosie's tone, she rejoiced in her daughter's discovery of first love, made all the purer in its oblivion.  
  
"Where do I go from here?"  
  
"Only you know that, Rosie. The answer is lurking somewhere in there."  
  
"But, oh, mother. Sam would never follow up on his feelings. He's too shy!" And Rosie stomped one foot upon the floor, emphasizing the point.  
  
"What matters more to you; his actions or his true feelings? Rosie, though I do hate to admit it, both of you are still very young. Boys get infatuated."  
  
"Sam isn't like that!"  
  
"I'm not saying he is, dear. The point is, what he did yesterday may not be a clear indication of his feelings. He, and only he, can discover the extent of his regard for you. Meanwhile, you have to ascertain that what you feel for him is true."  
  
"But I am sure."  
  
"Take an open approach, Rosie. The two of you have shared ten years of wonderful friendship. Do you want to ruin that, and all the memories behind you, due to a mistaken emotion? Build him up, encourage him to grow into the hobbit you know he can be."  
  
"Build him up."  
  
"Yes. Rosie, dear, if the test of time is passed.." Mrs. Cotton smiled at her daughter. "Whatever is meant to be, will be."  
  
"Whatever is meant to be, will be." 


	10. Novel Romance

Rosa Cotton: Really? Thanks! I found Frodo amusing as well : )

Aemilia Rose: They're seeking advice seemed practical to me, after all they are very inexperienced. It was a fun chapter to write!

Lily Among The Thorns-89: You're welcome! Your comment was interesting; I'll try to maintain the standard concerning the emotions. Please continue giving your opinion; it's invaluable to me.

Tom watched as his younger brothers played a game of checkers. Intent upon the other's motives and strategies, they barely noticed the anxious twiddling of his thumbs, a mannerism uncommon to the placid hobbit. Jolly moved a knight, all the while carefully observing the play of expressions upon Nib's face. It went from downcast, to gleeful triumph, then sunk again to the depths of depression. Jolly smiled, sticking his thumbs into his front trouser pockets in confident display. As Nibs scratched his head, his thoughts must have been thus stimulated, for he yelled in terrible victory and quickly moved his queen.

"Checkmate!"

"Not again."

"Up for another?"

"Not on your life." 

The disappointed Jolly turned to his eldest brother. It was only then did he notice Tom's wrinkled forehead, sure proof that something was amiss. He shifted his chair closer to Tom's, curiously peering at his thoughtful expression. Just then, Nick entered from the kitchen, in his hands a large platter of cake. He gingerly set it down upon the side table, waving his hands as a demanding clamor erupted about him. Setting out the slices on the plates, he looked over at the brooding Tom.

"What's the matter with him?" He mouthed silently to his brothers. Shrugging his shoulders in careless dismissal, Nibs tucked voraciously into his portion.

"You made this?" He asked, incredulous. "It's edible."

"Umm..yeah." Nick waved his hand experimentally before Tom's eyes, starting back as his elder brother stirred restlessly. 

"Jolly, have you noticed Rosie's liking for Sam?"

Jolly scratched his head at the abrupt question. The possibility that his young sister might have feelings for a hobbit had never occurred to him and he answered as he saw fit.

"No."

Tom took a vicious bite of his cake, slowly rolling the piece about his mouth.

"I overheard mother speak to her a few days ago. I didn't understand the little that reached my ears and asked mother about it. She didn't say much, but from the hints she dropped, I think Rosie may possibly be, well, in love."

Nibs snorted, promptly proceeding to choke on his cake in a highly undignified manner, while Jolly thumped him solemnly on the back. Nick rolled his eyes, being at the age where it is accustomed to either regard such matters with putrid disgust or acute embarrassment. Once Nibs had recovered, he exclaimed, in a spray of flying crumbs,

"Our Rosie! In love?!"

Tom nodded forlornly. Jolly was less appalled, being a somewhat more practical hobbit.

"Hobbit girls do to tend to be a bit silly at this age," and in illustration, he pointed to a romance novel Rosie had left lying on the sofa. He retrieved it with interest, while Nick shrank shuddering away. Jolly inspected the cover, wherein was depicted a bosom hobbit lady draped daintily over the arm of a buffed hobbit. He perused its pages, reading aloud a sentence here and there.

" 'she cried aloud, "Love me! Don't ever leave me!"; he took her in his strong arms, muscles rippling as she clung wistfully about his neck' ". Jolly laid aside the novel, ruminating upon the passages. Nick was, by this time, a deep shade of red, and chewing his cake with admirable assiduity. Nibs had risen to his feet and, with a disdainful glance at the wretched girl on the cover, banged his fist against the table, causing his fork to leap most frightfully.

"We can't let Rosie become like that! She'll be the laughing stock of the town! Whatever should we do?" he moaned despairingly. 

"There must be a way!" 

"Oh dear, oh dear." 

Jolly interrupted the woe-begotten lot. 

"But," he considered, "it would be fun to watch."

The other brothers turned to each other, eyes widening as each imagined Rosie and Sam enacting one of the passages in the novel. 

"Do you really think they'll be like that?" Nick whispered in awe. Nibs, having seated himself once more, clapped him reassuringly on the back. 

"There's only one way to find out." He answered bravely.

* * *

"A picnic?" 

"Yes, yes!" cried Nibs, beaming in the most charming manner. He and Nick had presented themselves at the Gamgee's front door come late evening, their express purpose being to procure Sam's acceptance to their invitation.

"I don't know. I was goin' to trim the verge tomorrow." 

Nick hurriedly spoke up, determined to succeed.

"Come on Sam, it's been so long since all us boys had a little fun together. Please?" 

"Is, erm, Rosie going?" asked Sam, keeping his tone as casual as he possibly could. Nick and Nibs exchanged brief, significant glances, before Nibs commenced the last and most delicate stage of their assignment. 

"No, she's not coming." He let out a deep breath, uncrossing the fingers behind his back. Sam smiled in acquiescence. 

"Sure, why not?"

* * *

"Are you boys up to something?" Rosie cracked her knuckles, her gaze resting on her brothers suspiciously. 

"Of course not!" Tom exclaimed, brushing off the accusation with a wave of his hand, his heart pounding dangerously. Beside him, Jolly's expression was carefully detached, his whole body tensed to make a mad dash should fortune be unkind to them. The two eldest having been appointed with the more risky of the two ventures, had agreed among themselves that the garden would be the best place for a confrontation. It was nearest the most convenient route of escape; the front gate. Now as Tom groped desperately behind him for its latch, he fervently hoped that he would have time enough to execute his escape. 

"All right." Rosie's voice pierced his vague mist of apprehension, its certainty leaving him breathless.

"All right?" reiterated Nibs, hardly daring to trust to his ears.

"Why not? It sounds like fun," she smiled, "Besides, I'm delighted Nibs is taking an interest in drawing. I'd be more than happy to be his model."

The two boys smiled dumbly, watching as their little sister returned to the house. Jolly turned to Tom.

"I don't think Nibs is going to appreciate your little idea."


End file.
